


Emigré

by noneedforgoodsouls



Category: Manic Street Preachers, james dean bradfield - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-18 19:41:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20197060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noneedforgoodsouls/pseuds/noneedforgoodsouls
Summary: Bristol. C. 1994





	1. Bad Boys and Painkillers

Here we go again. Fucking Bristol. The bastard city, the Tijuana of England. The taffiest English colony. I can’t be arsed going back to London. Maybe on a subconscious level I sabotaged myself to miss the bus. This would have been a good time to learn how to drive. Leaning how to drive means stop drinking and fuck that. God knows I need to get pissed. It’s 10 pm though. Maybe I’ll have a pint and watch a movie or something.  
The bus station is suspiciously empty. Not exactly a big surprise in September. I stumble on a payphone and hear a familiar voice on the other line

  
\- Aye lad. It’s me. Yeah…no. I missed the bus. Aye I know there are more buses, I ain’t that daft. Yep…No. Look, I think I’m spending the night, mate. In Bristol. I don’t fucking know. I just need some time to clear off my head, you know? Aye talked to him this morning. He seemed aight. How is he? Fucking daft cunt…yeah. I’ll have Nicky call him in a bit. Mate, I just need a few days off. Nicky is with his wife, and I don’t know what the fuck Sean is doing. Uh-uh… aye… just tell him I love him, yeah? I’ll visit him tomorrow or on Monday. Just tell him I’m sick or summat. Cheers mate. I’ll call ya later

  
Fucking pretty boy. Fucking bundle of cheekbones and problems. I sometimes think, maybe he would’ve been happier if we’d never asked him to join the band. I know his sister thinks so. She hated me guts the second she laid eyes on me. That’s the thing, innit? You always wonder what you could have done right. What you could’ve said and done in shitty situations. Motherfucker looks like a walking sculpture and is so fucking intelligent, that I just cannot… I mean, ‘kin hell. He gets so affected by every fucking thing. And being on the spotlight does nish to solve the problem. It’s fucking doing me head in. I wish I could make whatever is bothering him disappear. He once said I was too thick to understand, and he’s probably right. He is one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. I just don’t get why he keeps doing this shit to himself.  
I realized I zoned out thinking about the twat. I’m fucking freezing, perhaps I should brought a jacket. I have no idea where I’m going. Baby steps, like Bill Murray. It has always been so funny to me the fact that every town in England looks the same. I know where everything is, even though I’d barely stayed in this town for more than a couple of nights whilst pissed. I am certain we have played here before. So many vacant faces, it all starts to look the same.  
These cigs taste like shit. That’s what I get for trying something new. Reminds me of those fucking sailor suits we wore on the last tour. I had seen Richey buying a dark blue one and he looked fucking amazing. He looked like a mannequin. He convinced us all we should wear military gear. Sean, fucking crazy ass he is, thought it was a brilliant idea, so him and Nicky wore camo gear. Since, Richey had gotten the dark blue one, stupid old me went to get one as well. A white one. I looked like my mam made me act on a school play. It was fucking ridiculous. And one time fucking white trousers ripped right up the arse. It was a lesson to last me a whole fucking lifetime. Perhaps traditions are there for a reason. Change can be catastrophic most of the time.  
Fucking starving. This whole day is awful. Perhaps, I should just get a room and get pissed alone. To put my rock n roll credentials to the test. Being in this band has gotten me so confused. I grew up thinking that rock stars party and have birds blowing them off while they snort coke off their arses. Since none of us do drugs, the ballpark is slightly changed. Rock stars drink by themselves in shitty English towns. Or shoot themselves themselves in dark rooms. I feel lonely since I just like to have chips and beer and go to bed at a reasonable hour. Perhaps I didn’t get the wristband to join the rock star club.  
Oh I cant believe me eyes; a pub right across the bus station. I swear I can smell the taste of greasy chips and stale beer. My type of place. I cross the street, almost too excited about it. I push the door open and a little bell on top of it, makes my entrance known. There are a couple of old bastards sitting on a table. Can’t tell if they’re arguing or having a laugh, probably both, cheeky geezers. I walk straight to the bar

  
\- Aye up. Can I get a pint and a bowl of chips? Please  
\- Sure thing.  
\- Cheers, mate.

  
I turn around to see the place. I know that I’ve never been here before. There’s a lot of boxing memorabilia. I go around looking at the walls closely. A lot of pictures and newspaper articles about some boxer I’d never heard of.  
These chips are amazing. Maybe I’m exaggerating cause I haven’t eaten since this morning. My pint is halfway through and it’s cold as ice. I must be the saddest bastard for thinking my day is great ‘cause my chips are edible and the pint is cold. I gotta take a piss. I think I haven’t taken a piss since last night. Fucking hell. Not before finishing my chips. Ahhh chips. The only good thing to come out of this shithole. My country men can’t prepare decent chips to save their life. I head to the bathroom and I hear a couple of young lads making sheep sounds. They recognized me. Brilliant.  
Surprisingly the loo is spotless. Unlike the kitchen, I just saw. I take a piss and wash me hands. I grab the beer and head to the payphone.

  
\- Oi Nick. It’s me. Aye, listen. I’m in Bristol, I’m gonna stay here for a couple of days. Nah man. I just need to unfuck me head. Yep. Uh uh. I called Martin earlier he said it’s okay, he just needs either you or Sean to visit Richey man. I know. I just can’t do it man. Not today. You know the label is about to drop us right? Aye. We talked today. Daft cunt said; and im quoting here “I-don’t-want-my-lyrics-in-music-like that” He had never said some shit like that before. No. I get it, but fuck me, man. He has been having trouble with the G chord for 5 years now. His sole purpose is to write. Now the label wants to drop us and he wants us to be like Pantera meets Screamadelica. I’m fucking losing it, man. No. fuck off. Don’t come here you twat. I’ll be okay. Aye… So 11? Ta mate. Could you call Martin? He wants me to put up some acoustic gigs to promote the album. But I can’t arsed to be fair. Aye yeah. I told him I needed a few days off. I’m losing my fucking mind. No, no. yeah. But like what if he doesn’t get better? Everything is fucking shite, and it seems like he wants to be like that. What? No, fuck off. Well… Martin can suck my big fat cock. He can’t come touring with us. He hates touring. Fuck me. He hates fucking everything. I can do both guitars. No, no… listen. He needs to sort himself out. This is a bad fucking idea. You think? Aye cunt called me earlier to tell me not to call him. Classic Sean. Okay mate. Cheers. What time? Right I’ll call you there. Mmhmm. Just say I’m sick. You’re the one with the words, make something up. I don’t know mate. Probably gonna watch a film or summat. Okay. Aye..love ya too. See ya.

I hang up the phone and drink the last bit of the pint. Baaahhh baaaahhh coming from the last table of the pub. I go straight to the bartender.  
\- Oi mate. Them cunts at the last table are tempting me to shove a foot up their arses. Sort ‘em out before I do, aye?  
\- It’s a free country, lad.  
\- Ah seh…  
Can’t believe this shit. Fucking 1994 and still on about sheep jokes. If you can’t get respect at a pub. What the fuck are you gonna do? I go to the door. Fuck this shithole. The baaahh baaaahh sound continues  
\- Aye. We fuck em, but you cunts eat them  
I storm off. I can’t bargain pride for a beer


	2. An english gentleman

There’s a screening of Pulp Fiction across the road. Nicky said it was brilliant. I suck up on a fag before getting in. While I look at my surroundings, I see a bird at the bus stop. She is rather fit. She has a grocery bag and looks like she is hiding something under her coat. She notices me looking at her and stands up. She smiles at me as she enters the cinema. It sounds like my night might have a happy ending after all. I pay the fee and get some crisps. I walk through a bad lightened hall. Room 6 is my stop. I push the door and thankfully, the film hasn’t started. I roam the room searching for the girl. She doesn’t seem to be there. There is only a couple sitting at the front. I go for the middle/centre of the theatre. The film is is about to start and then I see her again. Fuck me, she is beautiful. She seats at the end of the row from mine. Next to the stairs. She takes a bottle of what seems to be Guinness from under her coat. She is having a fucking beer at the cinema. Man, I am in love.  
The film starts. A dialogue about burgers and weed. Some shooting. Some Biblical readings. I can see why Nicky said I would like it. The couple at the front are being super loud and obnoxious. My mystery girl is starting getting annoyed. She gets some sweets from a bag and starts throwing them at the couple. I join her with the crisps I bought earlier. We look at each other as if we have a secret. The man looks behind to find out who is throwing shit at them.

  
\- Oi knock it off – he barks  
\- Shut the fuck up then – she roars back.

I was going to jump in to the confrontation but she is quicker. The man realizing it’s a girl turns around rather annoyed. The couple gets quiet. It worked. She suddenly stands up and walks towards me. I feel like a fucking schoolboy. She giggles and sits right next to me

\- I’ll trade ya a beer for some crisps.

I don’t say anything as I hand her the bag. She puts the beer on my cup holder and keeps looking at the screen. She is fitter than I thought. Exotic even. I’ll never understand why I can sing in front of thousands of people, but a beautiful bird takes an interest in me I turn into Woody Allen. God I am 8 years old again. She opens a second bottle and lights up a fag. This girl doesn’t give a single fuck. I don’t want to look like a dickhead so I light up a fag as well. I do have punk credentials to answer for, anyway. The way she inhales and exhales has me hypnotized. The film seems like a soundtrack of her breathing.  
I think she noticed me looking so she stands up and doesn’t say a word and begins to walk to the hall. She suddenly stops and looks back at me. She wants me to follow her doesn’t she? She does. Fuck it. I follow her with my fag still on my mouth and she disappears. I don’t see her through the hall so I just decide to take a piss. Maybe I read wrong the signs, maybe she didn’t want me to follow her at all. I start to take a piss. Wash my face and think about heading back to the room. Well that was stupid of me. Perhaps she is in the girl’s bathroom. I decide to go for it. Fuck it. I push the door open… and surprise, surprise. She grabs me by the collar and starts kissing me deeply. She tastes like cherry lip gloss and beer. Her neck smells like coconut. Pineapples. I don’t fucking know. I can’t concentrate on her scent as I’d never noticed my cock getting so hard so quickly. Fuck it. I take her bum off and I lift her up. I carefully place her on top of the sink as she unbuttons her skirt. She wants it and I want it. She undoes my zipper and I thrust her on top on the sink. I feel my veins swell up as I can’t fucking believe it.  
She moans in my hear with her hands wrapped around my neck. I feel her everything. She is so tight and it feels so good to be inside her. She bites my lower lip, and I feel like I’m gonna cum. Oh god. Not yet. The fuck is wrong with me? I slow down so I don’t cum after two minutes. ‘kin hell. I truly believe I am in love with her and I don’t even know her name. I pull out and I kneel down in front of her pussy. I jump right into it and I start eating like I’d never eaten pussy before. Not giving a fuck feels so liberating after years of walking on eggshells. She runs her fingers through my hair. I feel her getting more wet. She starts moaning louder. She bites her fingers trying to keep quiet. I had no fucking idea I was good at this. I feel her body start to convulse. Is she ready to cum? I don’t fucking know for sure But I do know that I’ll cum soon. I stop eating her out and push my hard cock inside her. It’s like she fitted me all along. She is so wet and I am so hard. It’s so unexpected and it’s so much. I collapse on her right shoulder. I bite it, kiss it and worship it. I pull out as my sensitive cock leaves her. She stays there smiling. I look down to finish off the clean up ritual. When I look up. She is washing her hands. Without looking at me, she leaves the girls bathroom. What the fuck? I am so confused. Should I follow her?  
I decide to do it.  
The hall is empty. There is no signs of her. Or her coconut scent. I go outside of the theatre. Nothing. A few ladies with their bags doing some late afternoon shopping. What the fuck just happened? Am I hallucinating? It doesn’t fucking seem so. My cock still feels wet and sensitive. I still taste her pussy on my lips. Fuck. Am I going crazy like Richey? Maybe I need a shower. I’m starting to get the creeps.  
I walk down the road, filling my heads with thoughts. The band, my parents, the fucking label. Richey. Always fucking Richey… I can’t go back to fucking Blackwood. We’re so close to make it. We’ve worked very hard to make it happen. But somehow it doesn’t feel right. But nothing else feels right either. I need to find her. Yeah, another fucking thing to worry about. Some fucking mystery girl I shagged in a public bathroom in sodding Bristol.


	3. Still a long way to go

Ahhh “Hotel” c’est magnifique.  
\- Welcome  
\- Aye up. Got a room?  
\- Yes we do have vacancy  
\- Okay. One room  
\- Single or double.  
\- I don’t care  
\- How long are you staying with us?  
\- Look here’s a credit card. I need to take a piss  
\- There  
\- Thank you. 

He hands me the key as I go to the room. Seems a bit posh for my taste. Man, I need a hot shower but I fear that if I do, her scent will be gone. And I am not quite sure what to do with that information. It’s a bit like Cinderella, innit? Instead of a glass slipper is her pussy taste on my lips. 

\- Mooro. Can ye hear us? Oi! Fucking static, man. Look. I am in Bristol. Aye. Some fucking hotel. A Ramada I think. Mhm, let me check. Room 237. Yeah mate, The Shining. Write it down then. I am staying here till Sunday or summat. No, no. Aye. Nicky is gonna go and see him tomorrow. Can you make it on Monday?, I’ll go… just not now. Ah fuck me, mate. So if you already know, why do you have us here yapping away? One pint. That’s it. I swear. No, mate. I just need some days by myself. Mhhm. Are you going with him? Gotcha. The fuck does he want now? Yeah I’ll call him. I swear I want to Shove a foot so far up Martin’s arse sometimes. But I know he is just trying to keep our heads above the water. Aye I love him too…but fuck me. He nags more than me nan. No shit. Cheers. Just went to the theatre . Pulp Fiction. Dunno. Just watched the first 20 mins. The fuck did you know? Oh fuck off. I ain’t like that all the time. This one is special though. I don’t fucking know her name. no, no. It wasn’t like that. Eat a cock, Sean. How is the missus? Right. Tell her I loved her beans. Did I fuck. Just trying to be nice. I will, brother. I love you too. Yeah Yeah. I’ll call Martin. Ta. See ya

I really don’t want to call our manager. I lay on the bed with my hands behind my head and I close my eyes for a bit. I wonder what’s her name. Nothing really suits her. Enola. Alone. Enola… I’ll call her Enola. I am a fucking asshole. My best mate just had a suicide attempt and I’m obsessing over some bird I shagged in a loo. The fuck is wrong with me. I close my eyes for a bit. Fucking hell… I’d never seen such eyes on a bird before. Brown. Golden brown texture like sun…

The phone rings. Riiiiiiiiing riiiiiiiiiiing. That must be Martin. Fuck’s sake. I look at my watch. it’s midnight. The fuck does he want. I swear I had closed my eyes for a few minutes. 

\- Allo? Yep. Pass him on. . The fuck do you want? It’s midnight. Mhmm. Nah man. Piss off. I just have the Les Paul with me. I don’t have an acoustic. Ah fuck you. Yeah I know. Okay let me find something to write it down. Well… Aren’t you just Basil fucking Fawlty. Yeah, yeah. okay shoot. Isn’t that the pub right across the bus station? Aye I was there last night, full of pricks. Why a pub though? Ah I see… So new songs? So I’m gonna be the merch girl too? Fuck me, mate. Okay… so same setlist? I will try, I have rehearsed fuck all. Yeah. I’ll be there. When the fuck have I missed a gig? Yep. Sean will show up tomorrow. I’ll go to London in a few days. I’m okay. I’ll be okay. How’s the label feeling now? I see. I see. Fuckers. T in the park and Reading? Fuck me. Is it a looney bin or the Astoria Hotel? No, no… I hope the fuckers put some twat to do 2nd gritar. What? Have they lost their fucking minds? Have they even listened to the record? I can’t do it alone. Martin, come on… Didn’t we just do Glastonbury? You saw how my hands ended up afterwards. We shouldn’t have sold our souls to them, Martin. We should’ve stayed with Heavenly. The fuck was I supposed to know? No one saw this coming. 6 stones, mate. A grown man weighing six stones. Six!... I know, lad. I just need to figure out what the fuck. I’ll play your fucking acoustic gig tomorrow. Fuck it. Let them come. Just not that Lamacq bastard. I’ll make a couple of phone calls too. Yeah, I know we need those weasels. Right… Martin. Thank you for everything. You’re still a twat. But … yeah yeah… I love you mate. Ta. 

Martin hangs up. And I stay on the other line just hearing the tuuuuuuuuuuut sound. I zone out looking at my shoes. Fuck. I press 0 and light up a fag. 

\- Reception  
\- Yes, love. taffy bastard from 237. Could I get a bottle of Jack Daniels and a bucket of ice, please?  
\- It’ll be right there. Anything else?  
\- Yep. Someone is sending me a guitar case tomorrow morning. Could you wake me up as soon as it gets here, please?  
\- No problem.  
\- Thank you love  
\- My pleasure.  
\- Oh shit. Yeah also. Can I get a wake up call at 6 am. No wait. 7 am  
\- Of course, sir.  
\- You’re a doll

Okay plan for the night. Get pissed as soon as possible. I go to the bathroom and I step on the shower. Shower heads at posh hotels are a heaven-sent. The steam quickly fills the bathroom. I close my eyes and I feel the hot water do its thing. I wonder how are the boys. Nicky is probably asleep with his wife. Same with Sean. I sort of relate to Richey not having a significant other in his life. It gets lonely. Day in, day out, its just your stupid self in hotel rooms. You’re always travelling. No one missing you or writing you letters. Well, except for mam and pops. I wish I could make Richey understand it’s not the end of the world. He will meet somebody, have children and be a conformist cunt like the rest of them. It ain’t shameful to admit that’s what we want. But… fucking stubborn cunt. Try to ch--- Fuck. The whiskey. Ring, ring at the door. I grab the nearest white towel and cover my arse. Water still dripping from my hair. I open the door. 

\- Oh wow.. – 

a young girl says before passing the fuck out in front of me. Where the fuck is Nicky when you need him? I kneel down and look at her name tag. Cassie. She is still breathing. I lift her up and place her on the sofa in the room. Grab the items on the cart tray. Oh fuck… okay. First off. Trousers. I go through my bag. Some grey sports trousers. Socks. That will do. The fuck you on about worrying about clothes. There’s a girl dying in your living room.


End file.
